Hi again! It’s now August 17, and we’re on our way to Moab. In fact, by the time you read this, we’ll be in Moab. And by the time you read the posts about San Francisco, we’ll be in Moab. You see, we’ve been traveling the great states of Nevada and Utah for the past three days. We’ve been driving US-50, which is referred to by locals (and even our atlas) as “The Loneliest Road in America.” We have, for three days, been experiencing utter desolation. This is where to come if you need to get rid of a body. It is almost definitely where the government isn't hiding the aliens and testing the weapons they don't have and won't use. This morning, after leaving the Border Inn at the Nevada-Utah state line (more on that later), we drove seventy-five miles (I spelled out the numbers to make it even more dramatic) before we saw a single sign of human existence other than the road and the power lines that parallel it. After we passed this collection of buildings which may have been somebody’s home, it was another 15 miles before we reached the next sign of life. Two nights ago, we stayed in Austin, Nevada. This little town is at a crossroads, and the distances to the next town in each direction is 70, 89, 110, and 117 miles. The RV park in Austin was, shall we say, the most rustic we’ve stayed at this summer. It was a piece of dusty dirt with the owner’s mobile home and room for 8 campers but with no room in between them. It did have a steep, rocky hill directly behind the campers, and the boys immediately wanted to climb it. It looked, however, like exactly the kind of place that an entire kingdom of rattlesnakes would live. So I asked the guy who owns the place if there are snakes. “Snakes? No, there’re no snakes. My kids practically grew up on that hill.” While my first thought was shock and just a bit of sadness that someone actually spent their childhood on that piece of dirt, I sent the kids scampering up the hill. “Nope, no snakes,” he continued as the boys gleefully climbed. “Just that mountain lion that lives up there and patrols the ridge.” Yes, we let them climb anyway – we just sent Alex up there with them!
Before leaving Austin yesterday morning, I had to run over to the gas station. While there, a family who was driving The Loneliest Road had their son lock the keys in their car. And learned to their dismay that the nearest locksmith was 110 miles away. After filling up, we left Austin and drove 200 miles through nothing (it is truly a lovely nothing, all mountains and coolness, not at all like the flat desert we were expecting) to the Utah border and Great Basin National Park. We’ve never been to Great Basin before (I wonder if the ranger/s there really like it or if it is like it seems: the Siberia of the National Park Service), and were glad to have stopped. Up on Wheeler Mountain, 8,000 feet above the valley floor, is something really worth seeing. (I’m proud to say that we climbed all 8,000 vertical feet. Of course, 7,400 of it was in the car.) Up in this desolate wilderness stands a grove of bristlecone pine trees. These trees exist in only a few isolated patches in Nevada and California and they are remarkable to look at. Even more importantly, these trees are, by far, the oldest living things on Earth. The oldest of them are older than America, older than Columbus’ voyage, older than Jesus, or the Roman Empire, or even the Great Pyramids of Giza. As Kieran said, "Even older than you, Daddy?" The oldest of these trees are more than 5,000 years old. I’m pretty sure that the great sequoias and coastal redwoods are the 2nd oldest living things on Earth. And the oldest of the bristlecones are 2½ times as old as the oldest of the redwoods. And after these trees finally die, they don’t rot… they can remain standing for several thousand more years. The tree that Mom, Dad, Alex, Gabe and Kieran are standing in front of (see the picture of the day) is 3,700 years old.
Ready for a good eyeroll? Back in the 1960’s, they were really curious about how old this really old-looking tree in the grove was. So how did they determine its age? They cut it down. Once the idiots finished counting the rings, they discovered that until a few moments earlier, that tree had been living for 4,900 years. (They now take core samples, which the tree refills with resin within a few hours.) They have taken samples from enough trees that they can now cross-date them… rings from different years look different based on the weather that year, and they can look at a specific ring and know exactly what year it’s from. In this way, we know not only how old the living trees are, when the dead trees lived.
Last night we stayed at the Border Inn (and casino, and restaurant, and gas station, and RV park) that really is at the border. The casino is in the west side of the building because that’s in Nevada, while the gas station and restaurant are in Utah, meaning that the restaurant/bar serves 3.2% beer. But then you can carry your drink across state lines into the casino. I’m not sure how that all works. I had a great time with the boys standing at the welcome to Utah sign, which also welcomes us from Pacific Time into Mountain Time. We spent five minutes or so journeying into the future and back again.
As I mentioned, right now we’re on the road to Moab. Liz is driving this shift while I type, and we’re finally on an Interstate, I-70. If you’ve never driven it, this is probably the most beautiful Interstate drive in America. Right now we’re passing by massive red rock cliffs on one side, painted canyons on the other, and the entire horizon is filled with geologic wonders. It’s just lovely.
A glimpse into the future: We've reserved Jeep Rubicons for tomorrow, and we're a-goin' off-roadin'. Wooooooooooooooo-hoooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!
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